


Ichigo always knows what to say

by Wulvercazz



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, confused grimmjow, needs cuddles, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:30:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wulvercazz/pseuds/Wulvercazz
Summary: Grimmjow can’t figure it out.None of it.





	Ichigo always knows what to say

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve dived head first into this ship;;;; truly blessed with it’s uprising <3
> 
> first of many works on this ship hopefully

Kurosaki always knew what to say. It was a pretty newly acquired skill, but not quite as new to be too surprised anymore whenever the ginger left him speechless. It annoyed him to no end. Even more so when the shinigami started doing it without even opening his mouth.

Grimmjow couldn’t let the perma-frown that wrinkled his forehead go as he tried to figure out the mystery that was Ichigo Kurosaki. He could never get the upper hand on him; not this way at least, hell knows he’s gifted the ginger with a good amount of well served beatings to this day.

Frustration was practically Grimmjow’s continuous state of mind this days.

Ichigo always knew what to say; but Grimmjow never quite understood what the freckled bastard meant, with his soft spoken words and his ‘I like this’ and ‘I like that’s in referral to him. Why did the boy have to list the things he liked about him? Why were the parts of him he was fond of so mundane and ridiculous?

Otherwise, Ichigo would pat his head out of the blue; while he was trying to nap on his couch. Other times, his snarky comebacks would be met with a strangely fond smile; not at all the reaction he’d wanted. There were also the occasions when Ichigo would stare right at him; like he could see right through. That pissed him off. But his anger was always drowned short by the overwhelming feeling of warm fingers touching his face, or running through his hair right after. Grimmjow never expected it, even after all the times the boy had done it. And worse of it was whenever the shinigami felt the need to press his lips on his skin; kiss him. Hollows didn’t do that, had no need to.

Ichigo had explained the strange reasoning of it a while ago, he wasn’t immediately opposed to it, but he still didn’t get it. That didn’t discourage the ginger from it, no; in retrospect, Grimmjow realised it somehow encouraged him to doing it more frequently, in many different ways.

He hated it.

He felt feverish and like he had to throw up, it made his arms feel conscious about their stiff position right beside him and he never knew what to say, how to react. He wanted to punch him, but often his hands wouldn’t do it.

Ichigo was doing more homework this afternoon; after all the world saving the boy had done Grimmjow expected more exciting things to happen in the shinigami’s life. But apparently being human was even more boring than he’d expected.

That didn’t matter at this time, however, as his eyes bored into the back of a brightly colored head; his body awkwardly perched on a corner of the bed as the other man worked. To say he was annoyed was an understatement; but not even the Hollow knew exactly why.

They hadn’t interacted a lot the past few days, so the irking shinigami’s words and touches couldn’t be it. Grimmjow had slept nicely, didn’t even feel Ichigo wake up and leave for another day at the so called ‘university’ he liked to rot four days a week in. But the strange prickly feeling in his skin and the tingling in his fingertips was still there; deepening his scowl, and making his mouth dry.

The weird empty feeling in his chest he wouldn’t admit to though; only difference from all the other stuff he was feeling, he was acquainted with it. Another perk of being a hollow; the hole caused a plethora of unwanted feelings, it was the reason Hollows eat their loved ones first. So he paid no mind to it, even if he wasn’t supposed to feel it anymore inside his gigai. Faulty technology from the weirdo at the ratty old shop.

He was usually good with puzzles, despite his more action-oriented nature; but he couldn’t for his own sanity figure out what was wrong in that moment. Usually when he wanted something, he just took it. He couldn’t do that, of course, if he couldn’t even put a finger on what exactly he craved.

Beyond frustrating, Ichigo was. It was expected, and it still reaffirmed Grimmjow’s nasty scowl.

Like electricity, his head suddenly shot upwards and at the looming figure; so entranced in his own world that he hadn’t noticed Ichigo getting up from his seat and approaching him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been paying any attention to you,” He said with a little apologetic smile, but the words weren’t even registering through Grimmjow at the shock of being caught off guard by him yet again, “I’ll make it up to you after the exams, ok?”

His cheek felt warm, then his jaw, then the ginger lifted his chin with no opposition from himself.

Oh.

All the strange feelings suddenly melted away, as did his bones apparently because he felt limp and pliant. Ichigo kissed him again, and his chest felt loopy for a second.

Some strange force must have taken over his body in his sudden lax state, because as Ichigo moved away to continue his work, his own hand shot forward and grabbed a fistful of a worn out shirt. Then the other grabbed at the shinigami’s waist, and soon enough his forehead was resting on a warm belly firm but comfortable; all around him smelling Ichigo’s soap and warmth and safe.

What was wrong with him?

A hand pressed to his skull, and Grimmjow almost purred; fingers softly tangling with his hair.

“... I guess it’ll do me good to take a little break.”

Ichigo always knows what to say.


End file.
